Downtime? Enjoy it

Everything in medicine, and pretty much the universe, is based on averages. Average reduction of seizures, average blood levels, average response to treatment, average insurance reimbursement, average time spent with a new consult.

Statistics are helpful in working through large amounts of data, but on a smaller scale, like my practice, statistics aren’t quite as helpful.

I see, on average, maybe 10 patients per day, consisting of new ones, follow-ups, and electromyography and nerve conduction velocity (EMG/NCV) studies. That is, by far, a smaller number of patients than my colleagues in primary care see, and probably other neurology practices as well. But it works for me.

But that’s on averages and not always. Sometimes we all hit slumps. Who knows why? Everyone is on vacation, or the holidays are coming, or they’ve been abducted by aliens. Whatever the reason, I get the occasional week where I’m pretty bored. Maybe one or two patients in a day. I start to feel like the lonely Maytag repairman behind my desk. I check to see if any drug samples have expired. I wonder if people are actually reading my online reviews and going elsewhere.

Years ago weeks like that terrified me. I was worried my little practice might fail (granted, it still could). But as years – and cycles that make up the averages – go by, they don’t bother me as much.

After 23 years I’ve learned that it’s just part of the normal fluctuations that make up an average. One morning I’ll roll the phones and the lines will explode (figuratively, I hope) with calls. At times like these my secretary seems to grow another pair of arms as she frantically schedules callers, puts others on hold, copies insurance cards, and gives the evil eye to drug reps who step in and ask her if she’s busy.

Then my schedule gets packed. My secretary crams patients in my emergency slots of 7:00, 8:00, and 12:00. MRI results come in that require me to see people sooner rather than later. My “average” of 10 patients per day suddenly doesn’t exist. I go home with a pile of dictations to do and work away into the night to catch up.

With experience we learn to take this in stride. Now, when I hit a slow patch, I remind myself that it’s not the average, and to enjoy it while I can. Read a book, take a long lunch, go home early and nap.

Worrying about where the patients are isn’t productive, or good for your mental health. They know where I am, and will find me when they need me.

Learning to ride out the highs and lows that make up an average patient load is just another part of the job. Enjoy the slow times while you can.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

Everything in medicine, and pretty much the universe, is based on averages. Average reduction of seizures, average blood levels, average response to treatment, average insurance reimbursement, average time spent with a new consult.

Statistics are helpful in working through large amounts of data, but on a smaller scale, like my practice, statistics aren’t quite as helpful.

I see, on average, maybe 10 patients per day, consisting of new ones, follow-ups, and electromyography and nerve conduction velocity (EMG/NCV) studies. That is, by far, a smaller number of patients than my colleagues in primary care see, and probably other neurology practices as well. But it works for me.

But that’s on averages and not always. Sometimes we all hit slumps. Who knows why? Everyone is on vacation, or the holidays are coming, or they’ve been abducted by aliens. Whatever the reason, I get the occasional week where I’m pretty bored. Maybe one or two patients in a day. I start to feel like the lonely Maytag repairman behind my desk. I check to see if any drug samples have expired. I wonder if people are actually reading my online reviews and going elsewhere.

Years ago weeks like that terrified me. I was worried my little practice might fail (granted, it still could). But as years – and cycles that make up the averages – go by, they don’t bother me as much.

After 23 years I’ve learned that it’s just part of the normal fluctuations that make up an average. One morning I’ll roll the phones and the lines will explode (figuratively, I hope) with calls. At times like these my secretary seems to grow another pair of arms as she frantically schedules callers, puts others on hold, copies insurance cards, and gives the evil eye to drug reps who step in and ask her if she’s busy.

Then my schedule gets packed. My secretary crams patients in my emergency slots of 7:00, 8:00, and 12:00. MRI results come in that require me to see people sooner rather than later. My “average” of 10 patients per day suddenly doesn’t exist. I go home with a pile of dictations to do and work away into the night to catch up.

With experience we learn to take this in stride. Now, when I hit a slow patch, I remind myself that it’s not the average, and to enjoy it while I can. Read a book, take a long lunch, go home early and nap.

Worrying about where the patients are isn’t productive, or good for your mental health. They know where I am, and will find me when they need me.

Learning to ride out the highs and lows that make up an average patient load is just another part of the job. Enjoy the slow times while you can.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.

Everything in medicine, and pretty much the universe, is based on averages. Average reduction of seizures, average blood levels, average response to treatment, average insurance reimbursement, average time spent with a new consult.

Statistics are helpful in working through large amounts of data, but on a smaller scale, like my practice, statistics aren’t quite as helpful.

I see, on average, maybe 10 patients per day, consisting of new ones, follow-ups, and electromyography and nerve conduction velocity (EMG/NCV) studies. That is, by far, a smaller number of patients than my colleagues in primary care see, and probably other neurology practices as well. But it works for me.

But that’s on averages and not always. Sometimes we all hit slumps. Who knows why? Everyone is on vacation, or the holidays are coming, or they’ve been abducted by aliens. Whatever the reason, I get the occasional week where I’m pretty bored. Maybe one or two patients in a day. I start to feel like the lonely Maytag repairman behind my desk. I check to see if any drug samples have expired. I wonder if people are actually reading my online reviews and going elsewhere.

Years ago weeks like that terrified me. I was worried my little practice might fail (granted, it still could). But as years – and cycles that make up the averages – go by, they don’t bother me as much.

After 23 years I’ve learned that it’s just part of the normal fluctuations that make up an average. One morning I’ll roll the phones and the lines will explode (figuratively, I hope) with calls. At times like these my secretary seems to grow another pair of arms as she frantically schedules callers, puts others on hold, copies insurance cards, and gives the evil eye to drug reps who step in and ask her if she’s busy.

Then my schedule gets packed. My secretary crams patients in my emergency slots of 7:00, 8:00, and 12:00. MRI results come in that require me to see people sooner rather than later. My “average” of 10 patients per day suddenly doesn’t exist. I go home with a pile of dictations to do and work away into the night to catch up.

With experience we learn to take this in stride. Now, when I hit a slow patch, I remind myself that it’s not the average, and to enjoy it while I can. Read a book, take a long lunch, go home early and nap.

Worrying about where the patients are isn’t productive, or good for your mental health. They know where I am, and will find me when they need me.

Learning to ride out the highs and lows that make up an average patient load is just another part of the job. Enjoy the slow times while you can.

Dr. Block has a solo neurology practice in Scottsdale, Ariz.